


In the Comfort of Friends

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suzanne is looking for a roll in the hay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Comfort of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Business Associates #1 under the pen name Laura Brush.

_"It would be hell."_

 

          Reaching the end of the dark second-floor hallway, Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse paused, resting his hands on his hips and allowing a small self-satisfied smile to lift the right side of his mouth.  Things were finally getting back to normal.  No more Cash McCullough to worry about.  No more alien eggs to hatch.  No more additions to the ranks of the monsters invading the planet.  And they knew Quinn was active once again.  A little additional security should take care of that mutant, he thought.

          Blackwood was back to his one-in-five sleep cycle, Debi had resigned herself to her father's hasty departure, and Suzanne seemed recovered from her encounter with the alien at the ice house.  And Norton…  Well, Norton was rarely rattled by anything.

          Turning silently so not to disturb any of the civilians' sleep, the colonel started for the stairs and his own first floor bedroom.  It was time he got some well-earned shuteye.

          Three steps past Suzanne's door he stopped, a part of his brain registering something out-of-place although consciously nothing triggered it.  He listened.

          Crying.

          Suzanne was softly crying, probably with her face buried in her pillow.  Damn, he sighed inwardly.  Maybe there were a few things still unresolved.

          He moved to the door but stopped short of knocking, choosing to listen again to confirm his fears.  Yes, she was definitely crying.  _What do I do now?_ he asked of the powers that be.  The usual anxiety he felt around civilian women, especially crying civilian women, spread into his stomach, settling like a rock.

          _Oh, come on_ , he chided himself.  _You had two sisters and four lovers, it isn't like females are a totally foreign species_.

          Forcing his hand up, he knocked softly.

          The crying stopped.

          He waited a beat and tapped quietly again.  There was a soft rustle and the knob turned.  "Trouble?" Suzanne asked, hurriedly knocking a stray tear off her cheek with the back of her hand.

          "No," Ironhorse said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  He took a step back.  "I…  Are you okay?" he finally asked, staring at her bare feet to avoid her eyes.

          "I'm fine," she replied unconvincingly.

          "Suzanne," he chided, this time meeting her gaze, "I know different.  I heard you crying."

          Leaving the door open as an invitation for him to enter, the microbiologist stepped back into the darkness.  Ironhorse followed her, drawing the door nearly closed behind him.

          Settling on the foot of the bed, Suzanne drew her feet up under her, and folded her arms across her chest.  "There's really nothing wrong, Paul.  I was just…"  She trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable lie.  With a sigh, she relented.  "I'm supposed to be a psychologist, but I don't know what it is," she whispered.  "It won't let me go."

          Ironhorse sat down on the foot of the bed, keeping a respectable distance.

          "I've had close calls before," she argued, more with herself than with the soldier.

          "But not with an unblended alien," the colonel pointed out.

          "Granted," she said.  "But I don't think it's that.  I mean, it was Cash and, and…"

          "What?"

          She chuckled nervously.  "You're going to think I'm crazy.  _I_ think I'm crazy."

          "I seriously doubt that, Suzanne.  You're one of the most level-headed, professional people I've met."

          "Don't you mean up-tight?" she asked, using the phrase Harrison Blackwood had tagged her with just as their war with the aliens began.

          "No, that's just Blackwood's self-comparison, and believe me, _anyone_ would come up looking conservative."

          Suzanne smiled weakly.  "It's just, seeing Cash after all this time…  I— I…"

          "You realized you still have feelings for him?" Ironhorse guessed.

          "God, no!" she nearly gagged.  She stared down at the floor, trying to make out the pattern in the shadows.  "It's just that I miss— I mean— I— Oh, hell," she sighed, letting the rest of the comment rush out before she could change her mind. "I haven't been with anyone for a long time, and sometimes I _need_ someone.  I want to—"  She broke off, knowing she was saying too much, but Ironhorse remained silent, obviously waiting for her to finished.  "When I think about what we're doing here, I know I'm not going to have a chance to find someone again – at least not for a long time, and only if we're very, very lucky, and maybe not at all."

          The colonel nodded.  "You're not alone, Suzanne."

          "I know.  I'm sure all of you must feel the same way now and then.  And poor Harrison, losing Karen like that.  But knowing doesn't make it any easier, and it doesn't take the ache away."

          Ironhorse stood.  There was nothing he could do to help Suzanne.  What she was feeling was the same thing each of the Blackwood Project had faced in the past, and something they would each face again in the future.  He counted himself lucky.  He'd entered the situation knowing what the sacrifices would be, but the civilians, that was another story.  In war personal feelings and relationships ended up sacrificed, relegated to the back burner.

          "Paul?"

          "Yes?" he replied, halting at the door.

          "Now you _are_ going to think I'm crazy, but…"

          The soldier felt his chest tighten, anticipating her request.  "Suzanne—" he interrupted, intending to stop her before she said something she'd regret later.

          "Stay with me tonight."

          "Suzanne, I can't.  I mean—"

          It was her turn to stop him, and moving to block his escape, she rested her hands gently on his shoulders.  "Please?"

          "But—"

          Leaning forward, she brushed her lips across his, surprised at the tingle it sent cascading down her body.  I must be worse off than I thought, she decided and nearly giggled.  She quickly reconsidered.  Ironhorse was a handsome man, and a good friend.  The line from an old country-western song tripped across her memory and spilled out of mouth before she could censor it. "A little less than lovers, a little more than friends?"

          "Is that really what you want?" he asked, using a serious tone to make her stop and consider the consequences of such a request might precipitate.

          Suzanne drew a deep breath, then nodded in the darkness.  "I want to be with someone.  I want to feel safe, even if it's just for a moment.  I want to forget that there are aliens out there who want to kill me and my daughter and the people I care about.  I want to feel like a woman again."

          Ironhorse's hands came up to cover hers.  "If I stayed, we'd both be sorry.  You deserve better.  You need—"

          "I need to be with a man who cares about me as a person.  Regardless of what you think I deserve, I can't have that.  No Prince Charming is going to ride into my life, kill the aliens, and carry me away.  I'm not asking for a relationship, Paul, just a night.  Not a lover, just a friend who loves me, and who I love."

          Several emotions warred inside the soldier.  It had been a very long time since he'd been with anyone himself.  Never one to take relationships lightly, the few women he'd finally slept with had been special.  Suzanne was special.  She was also very attractive and he did care for her, loved her in a way he'd be hard pressed to explain, but he wasn't in love with her – or in lust for that matter.  It was clear she was hurting, emotionally, but would staying help, or only compound and complicate the issue?  He wasn't sure.

          "I don't know," he said honestly

          "You're worried I'll get attached?  Dependent?"

          "Yes."

          "Paul, haven't you had a friend, a very close friend that you loved and cared about, but you didn't want to marry them, or dedicate your life to them, just be with them from time to time?"

          "A long time ago, I thought I had a friend like that."

          "And she got too attached?"

          "No, I did."

          Suzanne sighed.  "Paul, I'm obviously not going to force you, but I _am_ asking.  Please, stay with me tonight."

          Indecision stymied the soldier.  Suzanne's fingertips, moving lightly along his collarbones, did nothing to help when they slipped over to his chest and began a downward descent; he stepped back.  "Suzanne, I—"

          A throaty chuckle echoed in the room, louder in Ironhorse's ears than it really was.

          "What about Blackwood?" he asked.

          "To be honest, I couldn't ask him.  I care about him, even love him in some weird way, but I'm afraid _he'd_ get attached."

          Ironhorse weighed the words.  Maybe she was serious.  Maybe she could—

          _What am I thinking?  She's General Wilson's niece.  A woman I'm assigned to protect.  A civilian… who's beautiful, intelligent, capable…_   He groaned.  _Why did this have to happen, Grandfather?  Why me?_

          Suzanne took the frustrated utterance as a signal of capitulation, and stepped up to the soldier, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him with a passion he hadn't experienced in far too long.  His hands rose to rest gently on her shoulder blades, then pulled her into his chest more tightly as he won the advantage in the kiss.  _It's too late now_ , he thought, but it drifted by on the edge of his awareness.

          Reaching down, he easily lifted Suzanne off the floor and carried her to the bed.  With more control than he expected he lowered her so they were both seated on the foot of the bed.  The microbiologist's hands exploring across his sweatshirt caused alternating waves of chills and tickles to pass over him.

          "Stop that, Doctor," he commanded kindly.

          She giggled softly, the sound full of life and joy.  "I didn't know you were ticklish, Paul," she whispered.

          "That's need to know."

          "Our little secret," she replied, leaning in to kiss him again.

          Reaching out, he traced the outline of her shoulders, then ran his hands along her sides to see if she'd jump as well.  Instead, she snuggled closer, the added weight upsetting his balance and forcing him over onto his back.  With Suzanne resting her forearms on his chest she smiled down at him.

          "What are we doing?" he said softly.

          "I'm not sure," she admitted with a grin.  "But I'd rather not stop."

          "To tell you the truth," he admitted, "neither would I."

          With that Suzanne began a slow but steady assault on the colonel.  First she breached the defenses of the West Point sweatshirt that separated her from the man's chest.  Running her hands over the smooth skin, she felt several small ridges that roused her curiosity, and she lifted the shirt away from his skin to look in the dim light.

          Ironhorse's hands stopped her, covering her own.  "Suzanne, I've been a soldier most of my life.  It's left scars."

          The idea that what she had felt were the remnants of injuries shook the scientist.  "Paul, I'm not going to make love to you with your clothes on."  He blushed, the color change noticeable even in the darkness, as was the sudden flush of heat under her hands.  "So, up already."

          He eased up onto his elbows, letting her tug the material up off his chest and finally over his head.  Ironhorse watched the woman's face, already more soft.  For the moment there were no aliens, no creatures that took over human bodies, no war to fight…  She reached for the elastic band at the top of his sweat-pants.

          "Now, just a moment," he said softly.  "This is a one to one proposition, Doctor."  Reaching out, he tugged easily at the collar of her pajama shirt, then let a finger trace down along the V-neck until it tickled just below her throat.  Sitting up, Ironhorse quickly unbuttoned the soft material, and paused a moment before reaching one hand up to push the garment off Suzanne's shoulder.

          _She is beautiful_ , he thought, admiring the curve of her breasts.  With careful consideration, he set about surveying.

          The rest of their attire passed with a leisure exploration.  Moving fully onto the bed, the pair stretched out, facing one another.  The sad expression on Suzanne's face caused Ironhorse to pause.  "Second thoughts?" he asked.

          "Of a sort," she admitted, but quickly flashed him a smile, adding, "but not about this."

          "What, then?" he inquired softly, smoothing back a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek.

          "I was remembering what happened at Kirby Hall."

          "You haven't been playing with that crystal, have you?" he asked.  According to what he'd learned, exposure to it had brought out Harrison Blackwood's aggressive side, and unlocked a wanton woman from inside of Suzanne.  He smiled at the mental image.  She couldn't be any more aggressive than the woman who had talked him into her bed tonight.

          "Absolutely not," she stated, but her voice dropped, taking on a wistful, almost melancholy tone.  "I was remembering how you dove to cover me when you heard that last alien escaping.  You would have given your life to protect Harrison and I, and, at that moment, you put yourself between me and whatever danger was out there."

          "That's my job, Suzanne.  My duty."

          "That's all?"

          "No, not now.  Maybe not even then, but it's hard to remember what it was like before all of you managed to get…"  He trailed off.

          "Under your skin?"

          "Something like that."  He cleared his throat quietly.  "Into my heart, I guess.  I'd try to protect any of you, any way I could."

          "I know," Suzanne said, moving closer to snuggle into the warmth of his body where she felt safe.  "If you'd died that day, I would have felt… bad, but I wouldn't feel like I do now, and I don't mean because of this."

          "We all care about each other, Suzanne.  We're like a family, now.  If one of us should die, it would be… hard, damned hard."

          "It would be hell."

          He kissed the top of her head.  "Deep thought for a lady lookin' for a roll in the hay," he teased lightly.  Maybe Blackwood's moodiness was wearing off on all of them.  Ironhorse had had a few bouts with the same kinds of feelings himself.

          Her hands snaked out to rub down his chest, coming to a stop just above his groin.  "Now, about that tumble, Paul.  I—"

          A kiss stifled the rest of her comment.

Continued in A Joyful Noise...


End file.
